


Bai's Moving Castle

by ZhanYutong1



Category: S.C.I.谜案集 | S.C.I. Mystery (TV)
Genre: Acrophobia, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bai Qingtang Will End the Patriarchy, Bai Qingtang and Zhan Yao Are Best Friends, Bai Siblings, Bai Sir Has Black Hair To Start Out With, Bai Sir Has No Chill, Bai Sir is Wizard Howl, Bai Sir is a Walking Disaster, Bai Sir is terrible at it, Bakery and Coffee Shop, But We Love Them and They Love Each Other, Crush at First Sight, Fantasy Hong Kong, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Flying, Gongsun Zhe is Scared For His Life, He Thinks Zhan Yao is the Greatest, M/M, Monsters, Mutual Pining, Swearing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Why Did I Write This?, Zhan Yao is An Awkward Bean, Zhan Yao is Confused, Zhan Yao is Sophie Hatter, Zhan Yao is a Therapist/Psychologist, Zhan Yao is a Walking Disaster, Zhan Yao is clueless, no beta we die like my hopes and dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhanYutong1/pseuds/ZhanYutong1
Summary: "But most importantly, he needed to understand the white-cloaked man and why he made everything inside Zhan Yao’s head go silent. He needed answers now before he imploded.The man’s shoulders slumped slightly, pivoting on his heels so fast he feared his head would keep going and leave his body behind.'You’re not afraid of heights are you?' he gasped..."
Relationships: Bai Yutong/Zhan Yao
Kudos: 2





	Bai's Moving Castle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on this disaster! I may continue it depending on the feedback I receive. I claim no rights to anything and apologies for any grammar errors.

  
Zhan Yao didn’t know what to think about the whole situation. Everyone kept whispering about the great wizard Bai Yutong, almost as if he was some deity descended from the heavens. As if he were some amazing being that called for everyone's fear or fascination. It was creepy, to be honest. The whole cult situation was creepy and, dare he say, insane. A wizard who ate the hearts of beautiful men and women? Honestly! It was ludicrous! He was either just a sick bastard who got his kicks off of people’s shivering hearts, or he was, in fact, a sick cannibalistic bastard which was just…a whole new can of worms that was not in Zhan Yao’s jurisdiction. He would leave that one to the king.  
  
  
Although, the rumors have been around for years. Spreading from city to city, everyone spoke of the mysterious castle that seemed to crawl upon the horizon like a phantom through the shadows. Barely there but…somehow watching closely.  
  
If it wasn’t real, someone should have put the rumors to rest by now? Right?  
  
  
He shook his head, jerking it slightly as if trying to forcefully eject the thoughts out of his ears and onto the ground so he could stomp on them.  
No! It was ridiculous to be thinking about this now. He was a psychologist for the King’s sake! How could he honestly tolerate Mrs. Xing’s stories of a real man-eating people’s hearts? It was just...ridiculous. Besides…even if it was true, he would never go after Zhan Yao’s heart. He rounded a corner, welcoming the stretch of shadows that swept across his dampened brow like a cold washcloth. Summers in Hong Kong were ten degrees away from broiling, almost to the point where he wouldn't be surprised if you could thoroughly cook a whole chicken if you left it in the sun long enough. And he despised leaving the welcoming coolness of his office for the irritating scratch of the dusty wind. Yet, he had to make the sacrifice. He knew that if he didn’t go and visit Qingtang today she would have his neck and other…vitally important parts in a vice.  
  
  
He strode along the wide cobblestone alleyway, watching as small families piled upon their doorsteps, in obvious celebration as they screamed how amazing the military was at the top of their lungs.  
  
  
He snorted. Oh yes, how amazing corruption and war crimes were. It really evokes the spirit of the nation, doesn't it?  
He stepped over a small wooden boat that had been left in a small puddle by one of the apartments, not paying much mind to it until he caught a small hand swinging back and forth in the corner of his vision. He stopped, gaze quickly snapping towards the sudden movement, shoulder blade locking together as if to try and make himself as small as possible. A little girl, no more than five, was jumping up and down on one of the porches to his right. Her tiny hands flapping like a bird as she stared directly at him.  
  
  
“Hello, Mr.!” She called, smiling so wide that he could see the large, dark gaps in-between her canines. For a moment he couldn't help but let his eyes swing in a circle around him, checking to see if there was anyone else she might be referring to. But, there wasn't.  
  
  
A small sliver of warmth crept through his chest, wrapping around his heart like a warm blanket on a snowy night. The warmth spread up to his face, causing the corners of his lips to forcefully twitch upwards, unable to contain them. He timidly waved back, unsure if it was really appropriate to be waving to a random girl he barely knew, who was showing more enthusiasm at the sight of him than his cat did. It was hard not to smile at her. Very few people bothered to ever smile at him. To be honest…very few ever bothered to look at him let alone smile. Who wanted to be friends with the scary doctor who was able to look into your mind and decipher every secret you have ever tried to bury in the darkness? Who wanted to be friends with a man who told you of your every flaw? Who wanted to be friends with the man who told you you were sick and needed help? Who wanted to be friends with someone who they felt constantly analyzed their every move, taking every twitch to mean they were sick in the head and needed help? No one wanted that. Hell, he even wondered if his cat wanted to be around him half the time.  
As soon as he set his hand down the little girl was quickly pulled away by her mother, quickly shoved back into the bright warmth and safety of her home. As if she needed protecting. As if she were being hidden.  
  
  
And just like that, the warmth that had wound its way around his heart unraveled, disappearing into the depths of his chest. Leaving a cold, empty space, echoing with the longing of something Zhan Yao couldn’t put his finger on. As if it were never there. As if it never existed.  
He made his way to the alleyway, staring and the bleach white horizon and dreading having to cross the barrier.  
  
“Hey, Cutie! Wanna drink?”  
  
  
Zhan Yao jerked to a halt, his stomach seizing as he suddenly was assaulted with the foul stench of putrid alcohol, daddy issues, and bad life decisions.  
Two feet away from him, crammed on the doorstep of a small bar were two members of the so-called “outstanding military sent from above.” One had a beard that had more alcohol in it than the beer bottle, creating a puddle on the ground below him. The other was a ginger mess that was working on removing the top half of his buttons in order to reveal the disgusting tendrils of veins he had on his pecs. Of course, they both were grinning at him like idiots, their empty beer bottles hanging from their hands like a broken limb.  
  
Oh, for the love of the King!  
  
This couldn’t be happening? They really were-  
  
  
“Cutie, cutie come on!” The one with a beard slurred, his beard hanging from his chin in matted waves, effectively making the other man want to gag. He stumbled onto his feet, making his way towards the frozen man standing two inches from freedom.  
He had no idea what to do. Most people would run or…punch the man in the face, but he had been told numerous times that physical capability was subpar to that of a newborn kitten. Which…he couldn’t really argue with. He never, once, punched or caused physical harm to anyone. He preferred taking the logical and psychological route, effective and subtly destructive. If he tried to run he would make it two feet before his lungs felt like they were trying to crawl their way up his throat.  
He inched back, his eyes darting to the light rays of freedom and bustling witnesses. Maybe he could make it. Maybe he could make it far enough that the soldier would trip and slam his face into the ground or he would pass out. He had to take the risk. Even if it did cost him his lungs.  
He sucked in a deep breath ready to launch when something slimy latched onto his wrist. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! His heart slammed against his chest as his gaze met the yellowing pile of teeth of the bearded soldier.  
  
  
“Come have a drink, cutie,” He slurred, sending a puff of foul-smelling air up the smaller man’s nose, causing acid to bubble up in his stomach. He knew he should have never left bed this morning.  
  
  
He tugged at his arms, hoping that the man was too drunk to actually acquire a proper grip, but that would require the universe to be kind to him, and it would appear that wasn’t happening today. He yanked, only feeling the sausage-like fingers curl in further, the sharp pinpricks digging onto the soft skin under his wrist.  
He flinched.  
  
  
“Darling!” A voice boomed, something warm sliding around his waist, tickling at his sides.  
Zhan Yao jumped, a small spark of electricity shooting up his spine at the feeling, forcing a hiss past through his lips.  
His head snapped up, his mouth opening in preparation for the spew of profanities and psychological terminology that had never failed to scare people off before.  
Yet…nothing came out.  
  
  
His heart slammed against his chest, the force almost causing him to topple over had it not been for the arm around his waist. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue knotting themselves into a bundle of sputtering and gasping.  
  
Oh…  
  
  
Standing next to him, looking at him with wide, relieved eyes, was the most gorgeous man Zhan Yao had ever seen.  
Black hair gleamed in the sunlight, the softness only emphasized by the white cape he had wrapped around his shoulders. His cheekbones barely separated themselves from cut glass; Zhao Yao feeling a compelling urge to reach up and see if they were, in fact, as sharp as they looked. His eyes resembled freshly melted dark chocolate, soft and warm. The colors shifting shades with the flickering of the mischievous spark that lay within their core. The deep pools rippling with something he couldn’t place his finger on. But he wanted to know. He really wanted to know.  
But that’s not what caused his heart to feel as if it were trying to escape his chest and run into the man’s arms. What surprised him was the blinding smile that graced the beautiful light-colored lips. A blinding brightness that Zhan Yao had never thought a human being was capable of wielding. It was so bright. So bright and pure that it could rival that of the sun.  
  
  
Oh…oh this just wasn’t fair. This was it. This was proof the universe had it out for him today.  
  
  
Zhan Yao wasn’t someone who interested themselves very often in the aesthetics of other human beings. In fact, he was often too disgusted by the lies and deceit that had begun to rot their skin that he could barely bring himself to acknowledge them, let alone admire them. Yet…something about this man, who had appeared as if from thin air to help him, intrigued him. Fascinated him. He wanted to know why.  
Suddenly, the mysterious man leaned forward. Warning bells went off immediately, screaming and demanding that he remove himself from the situation.  
Demanding that he hypnotize, distract them, do something!  
  
  
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to. It was almost as if his feet had been glued to the floor, then had a couple hundred nails smashed into them. Making it painful to so much as move an inch.  
  
  
“I’ll get you out of this just play along,” he whispered, the warmth of the words lightly caressing the shell of his ear.  
  
  
The light breath ignited small sparks down his spine like flint to firewood, heat flaring across his cheeks as he shivered. He had no idea what to do. For once in his life, he was completely powerless. No logic, no reasoning, no explanations hidden in his memory bank could serve to make light of the situation. It was as if his brain had been switched off, leaving nothing but a silent void where it once berated him—like a parent scolding a child for not going to bed at a reasonable hour—twenty-four-seven. Never, in his entire life, had this happened to him before. Was he sick? Was he in shock? Did he need to go to the hospital?  
The drunk man snorted, thrusting the empty beer bottle in the mystery man’s face.  
  
  
“This guy belongs to you?“ He slurred, shaking the bottle between the two of them. And just like that everything shattered, the words reaching into the glass wall he had built around himself, causing it to crack into a million tiny shards.  
  
‘You are my son. You belong to me as long as you keep my name, so you will do as I say!’  
  
  
Zhan Yao forced his gaze away from the source of his turmoil, snapping to the drunk thorn in his side. Something cold started to crawl its way into his stomach, the words pressing upon the sensitive organs, cutting off the blood flow. Freezing. Numbing.  
  
  
Of course, he knew the man was fishing for a reaction. Something to indicate that he was paying attention, that his behavior was being noticed so he could get the upper hand. It was a strategy that many individuals who had parental issues tended to adopt, seeking attention from their latest victim. Which was why he clamped his mouth shut, biting his tongue in order to keep the reflex-like responses that were desperately clawing their way up his throat from getting out.  
The mysterious man must have sensed his sudden tension, the grip on his waist tightening, the fabric of his blue trench coat tugging backwards slightly. A signal. A signal to move, to get away before this got too out of hand.  
  
  
The mystery man rolled his eyes, snorting. “I’m not sure ‘belong’ is the correct word. I feel that its more of a mutual exchange of care and feelings, which results in kisses and sharing of the bed,” he stated, tilting his head to meet his gaze once again, his lips puckering slightly.  
  
Damnit…  
  
  
And just like, what little mental functions he had been able to recuperate in the few minutes of looking away from the white-cloaked man, immediately died. His heart felt like it was going to explode at this rate if it didn’t calm down, his head becoming foggy with the vast amount of blood rushing through is veins. Zhan Yao had no idea what to do with any of this. At all. He had no idea why this man induced such emotions, especially when he had never felt anything remotely close to them before. The frantic beating of his heart, the tug in his chest that urged him closer to the man were things he had thought impossible for him to feel. It was terrifying and he wasn’t sure he could trust it. This wasn’t normal for him nor was it something he knew how to deal with and that was dangerous. He needed to understand, he needed logic and reasoning to explain it. Yet, there wasn’t any. His brain was turned off like a candle snuffed out by the cold wind. The loss of his defenses and logic functions was not something he had ever had happen, especially, due to a person. It was too much. He needed to get away. To clear his head. To figure out why this was happening to him and how to make sure it never happens again.  
  
  
“Anyways, we have places to go people to see. Nice chatting with you,” he said, tugging on his jacket again until his back nocked slightly into the man’s chest. “Come along darling.” He added, voice lowering slightly as he turned towards him. The arm pushed a little harder on the small of his back, forcing the long limbs he had completely forgotten he had to unwind themselves from the coil they had wrapped around them.  
  
  
“Hey! Where are you going?!” the man shouted from behind them, but both men ignored it, the white-cloaked man only waving his hand slightly behind him. 

  


-*-  
  
The sunlight was like a firework on a dark night. Blinding and painfully vibrant compared to the cool shadows of the alleyway. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. In fact, he was happy to the point where he felt it swell and settle in his chest, a small smile threatening the muscles in the corners of his mouths. The gut-wrenching stench of alcohol and the cries of a suppressed inner child were gone, leaving his ears and nose free to relax. He felt good, and he knew he would feel even better if the strange man whose arm was still wrapped around him would stop giving him heart palpitations. Honestly, he was far too young too be having such severe heart troubles, even if he wasn’t as athletically inclined as most.  
  
  
The silence that had overtaken them was deafening, the sounds of celebration and motor cars refusing to pass through the heavy canapé. Zhan Yao knew what he wanted to say. A million questions itching to be answered by the man. A need to understand what was going on behind those eyes latching onto him like a cat searching for a mouse. But, the other part of him wanted to run. Run back into the safe, confining space of his office where he knew his mental processes would not be challenged by mysteriously gorgeous men in white.  
  
  
Suddenly, the warm weight around his waist fell, effectively snapping the other man out of his reverie. The fingers that had made their home in the folds of his trench coat, sliding down his arm and wrapping around his pincushion wrist.  
  
  
“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt your wrist did he?” he questioned, his voice lowering slightly as if he were about to tell him the secrets to the universe and didn’t want the pedestrians passing them to overhear. Zhan Yao choked slightly, the slightly calloused fingers leaving a trail of parks up his arm and into the center of his chest. The small ball of warmth humming in his chest, swelling. He jerked his hand away, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Like that would protect it. Like that would magically make the erratic fluttering in his chest stop.  
  
  
“N-no I’m fine, thank you,” he stuttered, looking away from the blinding smirk that had begun to spread across the man's face again, obviously proud of something Zhan Yao could not comprehend. He chose to scan the street, ignoring the tug in his neck that was connected to the captivating ray of light. Desperately trying to make him look, to become a pile of mush as he melted in it.  
  
  
The streets were still packed with people buying and shopping for the festivities. Never in his life had he seen so many people excited to go to war. Normally, to anyone with any sense of morality would understand that killing millions of people was a bad thing, yet no one seemed to care. All they cared about was the big boats with the large guns and the surge of superiority that went along with them. It sickened him. It sickened him to think that the corruption and mental manipulation had spread so far. So deep within the human mind that it had become normalcy.  
  
  
His chest heaved slightly, unable to contain the puff of disappointed air at the general population. He knew he wasn’t exactly normal either, but at least he didn’t want to kill or swoon over a strange wizard whose dietary requirements consisted of human hearts. Of course, the psychologist side of him wanted to believe they weren’t too far gone. He knew there were good people out there…somewhere. Some of them were just lost and needed guidance back to the correct path. Qingtang was probably the best person he knew—well, she was the only person he knew outside of his small list of patients—even if she tended to have attachment problems. He had tried to make her understand that fixating and obsessing over something wasn’t healthy, that is would only scare them away. But, she refused to listen to him. He thought of her latest victim, a poor, unsuspecting, doctor who came into her bakery looking for milk bread only to come out with a phone number and intimacy issues.  
  
  
A small part of him wanted to intervene, but he knew that Qingtang would have his head if he dared to meddle in her master plan of wooing the great Dr. Gongsun in ten-hundred steps or more. He was meant to be visiting her today in order to be formally introduced to the man, which he was currently late for. She probably had already bought his coffin for him and a tombstone to match.  
He shivered at the thought.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
  
Zhan Yao jumped, his head snapping towards the noise, eyes widening. The once relaxed expression that had graced the black-haired man’s sharp features was gone, whipped away with something harder. Colder. Eyes were set into a thin line, jaw twitching slightly as the muscles ground together. ‘What on earth just happened?’ he wondered, unsure of what could have occurred in the past five minutes to warrant such a drastic change in demeanor. Granted, he had no idea who the man was, but the confidence and ease that seemed to ooze from him like syrup could only come from that of a narcissist. And most narcissists tended to not lose that ease very quickly, not unless they had been threatened in some way. Although, even when he was having alcohol-laced spit thrown in his face back in the alleyway, he hadn't so much as flinched. Could the men have followed them? A small sliver of fear crept up his spine and across his neck, the hairs standing on end. He glanced behind them, only seeing a mass of colorfully dressed merchants and families piling over one another like puppies. There wasn’t any sign of green or red uniforms among the crowd as he continued to jump from person to person—What the hell?!  
  
  
His once softly fluttering heart suddenly jerked, slamming against his chest and bouncing up into his throat. Standing on the other side of the street, staring directly at them, was four sets of blazing gold eyes. But that’s not what shocked him, what caused his head to feel like it was about to explode. What shocked him was the black mass that was attached to the eyes, rippling skin glinting in the sunlight like motor oil. This was it. He was having a mental breakdown, finally. He always knew this day would come eventually, he just never expected that his brain could conjure up such imaginative hallucinations. Especially, the extravagantly colored top hats and waistcoats that giant black masses were sporting. It was rather impressive really. They were large, tare-like tendrils slithering from the arm and leg holes, meant to resemble that of limbs. He was sure that, in reality, they were lamp posts or some poor pedestrian who was petrified to find a random man staring at him like he was about to murder him.  
  
  
He couldn’t make himself look away, no matter how much his heart felt like it was about to climb out of his throat in order to run away.  
Tearing his gaze away from the moving lampposts, his eyes caught that of the turmoil-inducing pair next to him. Was he a hallucination too? He wouldn’t be surprised. In what plane of existence would a man like that be standing next to someone like Zhan-Yao-The-Crazy-Doctor? A knight in white armor…interesting concept.  
  
  
The man bit his lip, the hand that had wrapped around his wrist shooting out to snatch his elbow.  
  
  
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but it would seem you're involved now…” he stated, his tone tight and breathless, like he was slowly being strangled and an invisible thread. The grip was warm, seeping through the thick layer of his coat and shirt. Solid. Granted, he knew the human mind was extremely complex and could induce extremely convincing hallucinations. To the point where the patient could feel like their bodies were being torn apart pain despite the fact that they truly weren’t being hurt. Yet, the warmth, the noise, the distress on the man’s face…it felt so real.  
He opened his mouth, but before he could even struggle to say a single syllable he found himself being dragged forward, his legs kicking behind him in order to not fall flat on his face.  
  
  
“Hey! Wh-What are you doing?” he yelped, his lungs feel like they were just hit with a baseball bat as the man wove his way through the mass of people.  
  
  
“I’m sorry, but unless you want to be the Wizard of the Waste’s dinner, I suggest you run,” he shouted, causing Zhan Yao to stumble, foot catching on the uneven pavement. The Wizard of the Waste?! What—how—What did his hallucinations have to do with the Wizard of the Waste? Of course, he had no history of mental illness or any previous signs of a mental breakdown, he refused to believe this was happening to him. Why was his brain even thinking of the Wizard of the Waste?  
  
  
Zhan Yao wasn’t overly interested in magical politics, despite how invested the kingdoms had become in it. It was another reason why this war was such a magnificent event. It would be the first war that magic would be used to fight against the enemy. Wizards and mortals working side by side or some bullshit like that. But he knew the Wizard of the Waste, ruthless and a living nightmare. It had been said by countless people that if anyone crossed his path they would wish they were dead. Rumors of bloody rituals, symbols carved into dead bodies as he casted his spells. Suspicious disappearances of political influencers that result in random animals wreaking havoc around towns. He was a walking assassin, uncaring of who or what was in his path. If he could use it to gain power, he would. Yet, he never met the man nor was he overly concerned about ever being a target of the man. So why was his brain conjuring up his minions?  
  
  
They skidded around a corner, weaving their way through shouting masses of people, leaving cursing in their wake. He craned his neck in order to look over his shoulder, his lungs feeling like he had a knife driven through them repeatedly, leaving nothing but holes in its wake. The black masses that had been across the street moments ago were suddenly right behind them, slithering through the bodies as if some sort of pastel mudslide. They were gaining on them.  
The white-cloaked man slid slightly, his white shoes scraping against the concrete as he bolted into an alleyway next to a flower shop, almost pulling Zhan Yao’s arm out of its socket. He shuddered, shredded lungs struggling to gain the air it needed, his chest beginning to feel like it had a wildfire searing through it. The muscle and tissue frying and crisping with the blazing hot heat.  
  
  
They stopped when reached the end, their path completely blocked by a bleached brick wall. He placed his hands on his knees, trying to take some of the tension off of his diaphragm. He looked to the man who was standing straight, his hair barely having moved an inch, not a single droplet of sweat gleaming upon his perfect skin. He felt the sudden overwhelming urge to punch him. To remove that perfect cover and replace it with something more real. He didn’t care how perfect he was or how fascinating he was, no one should look like that after running continuously more than seven blocks. It wasn’t normal.  
  
  
He pushed himself off of his knees, feeling his stomach ache in protest as the muscles and tendons pulled, stretching tightly over the bones. “Okay, first of all, who the hell are you and, second of all, what on earth is going on?!” he snapped, the words scratching along his dry throat like wood on sandpaper, sounding more like a seventy-year-old smoker. He couldn’t take this anymore. His entire body felt like it was about to give in on itself, all the support structure chewed away, leaving nothing but an empty shell to tip over at the first gust of wind. He wasn’t built for this, his mind wasn’t built for this. It felt like it was floating in a whirlwind of nothingness, lost and desperately trying to grasp onto something. Anything. If everything that was happening was in fact real, then he needed answers. He needed to understand what was happening, why he was suddenly involved. But most importantly, he needed to understand the white-cloaked man and why he made everything inside Zhan Yao’s head go silent. He needed answers now before he imploded.  
  
  
The man’s shoulders slumped slightly, pivoting on his heels so fast he feared his head would keep going and leave his body behind.  
  
  
“You’re not afraid of heights are you?” he gasped, the words rushing past as if the cord wrapped around his neck pulled taught, leaving very little room for anything superfluous. Clipped and flat, completely ignorant as to what he had just asked him.  
  
  
His mouth fell open. Okay, this couldn’t be his hallucination. There was no way his brain would never conjure up anything that would require or relate to being two feet above the ground at all times. It just…no it just wasn’t possible; just being up on a ladder to paint a wall had his entire body shutting down and nausea swelling in his stomach. It was a fear he should have been able to break himself of but has had no reason to. A fear of heights was a very reasonable evolutionary fear that was necessary for survival. Feet were meant to be planted on the solid ground and not flying around in bags full of hot air that could burst at any moment. If this man standing in front of him was suggesting such ludicrous ideas, then that meant he was real and those things running behind them were real. ‘What the hell did I get himself involved in?’ he groaned internally.  
  
  
He knew he should answer, his stomach already beginning to quiver at the mere thought, acid threatening to bubble up. Yet, he couldn’t get his jaw to open and close correctly, his mouth refusing to form the vowels. The only thing he could get past the growing knot in his throat was a: “Ye-yes…” There were a million questions that wanted to try to desperately join his answer, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t answer.  
  
  
The corners of his lips twitched upwards, not as drastic as his last phew, less blinding. It almost looking…apologetic. Suddenly he found himself being spun around, the arms that had seemed to take up the task of manhandling him earlier, sliding around his waist. Everything inside of him clamped together at once, every cell, every vein, every tendon springing together like a padlock clicking closed. Strong and unyielding as he plastered himself to his back. A silver haze began to form around his vision, blurring as his head became too dizzy with the sound of sirens ringing and screaming through his eardrums. A warning. A warning to get away, to run, to escape. Too much, too much, too much.  
  
  
Something warm ghosted over his ear again, an all too familiar breath drowning out the noise around them. “Who I am is not important, and as for what is going on I feel it’s fairly self-explanatory, don’t you Kitten?” he chuckled softly, the arms squeezing slightly, pulling him further into his chest if that was even possible. Kitten?!  
  
  
“Hold on,” he added, and before he could so much as scream the world dropped, like a curtain sliding off of its rod. The white-washed brick of the surrounding buildings began to stretch, blurring like rain washing away a pastel portrait. Colors mixing and expanding into a sickening landslide of grays and browns, forcing him to squeeze his eyelids closed. What the hell was going on? Why—how were they flying? Why were they flying?! His heart felt like it had shriveled up like a dried grape and dropped into his stomach as it somersaulted its way into rejecting the breakfast he had that morning. ‘Oh god, this is it, this is how I die’ he thought, clamping his jaw tight to the point he felt like his teeth might crack in half, a hand flying up to clamp over his mouth for extra security. Bloody hell, the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally throw up on some poor bystanders doing their afternoon shopping or the pristine white cloak of his best and worst dream ever.  
  
  
He whimpered slightly, too distracted with controlling his raging stomach to regulate his physical actions, the noise easily slipping past his defenses. He sounded pathetic, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. If he had a say in it he wouldn’t have this problem nor would he be in this situation. But this was something far beyond his control, especially with the threat of throwing up making the phobia impenetrable. Suddenly, soft fingers slowly spread over his stomach, pressing slightly into the fabric of his white button-up. A frost began to spread from the spot, seeping through the fabric and into his skin. The loud and obnoxious party that his stomach was having suddenly freezing, the heat of the acid chilling. His eyelids flew open, a puff of air rushing past the cage still wrapped around his jaw. Never in his life had anything been able to quell his height sickness. Not a single damn thing. The medication was pointless, the teas only made it worse. And if anyone dared to put ginger candies anywhere near him he would make sure they were the first he threw up on. Yet, as he stared down at the small dots weaving through the streets, the rooftops of Hong Kong a mile beneath their feet, he felt nothing. In fact, a small ripple of awe overcame him as he watched the monstrous kingdom reduced to nothing but a doll-like version. Of course, the enigma was a wizard. It was the only plausible explanation. Small little pieces, of what he knew to be the most complex puzzle he had ever encountered, piece themselves together, allowing a small part of his confusion to be put to rest. Obviously, he managed to piss one of the most powerful wizards in the country off. A spectacular feet in which Zhan Yao was curious as to how he accomplished. Although, if they were in such a desperate scramble to capture the man then he must be fairly powerful or the Wizard of the Waste wouldn’t have bothered sending minions after him. Even if he managed to piss him off in some way. This meaning that he must be fairly well known and probably in the city to report to the king. Of course, there was far more to it than that, a lot more. He thought back to the vast depths of his brown eyes, something Zhan Yao had never seen before in any human being. Most people had the depth of a kiddy pool when it came to mental complexity and interest. So what made this man so different from the rest? What could possibly dig such a deep, cavernous space within him?  
  
  
“Are you okay?” he questioned, cutting the final string to every single muscle in his body, causing them to sink as if they had fallen into a tub of molasses. He nodded slightly.  
  
  
“Yes, thank you.” He said, his voice rising slightly at the end. The man hummed, the vibration cutting through his chest and into his shoulder blades. “Good, because as nice as it is to have you like this, Kitten” he started, the muscles in his forearms tensing slightly, squeezing his midsection. “I’m afraid we need to start walking.”  
  
  
Zhan Yao took a deep breath, trying desperately to remove the feeling of blood pouring out of his nasal cavities and down his face as he was forced to lean further into the man’s chest. He was never stepping outside again for the rest of his life.  
His mind understood that there wasn’t any point in arguing with him. Being one-thousand feet above the ground, and plastered onto the chest of a very strange wizard like a brand new shirt, didn’t exactly leave a whole lot of room for arguments. Besides…the man could have left him behind when those monsters came after them, using him as a distraction to make his own escape. A necessary sacrifice. But he hadn’t, so he at least deserved some benefit of the doubt  
  
He released the air built up in his lungs.  
  
  
‘Walking'—yes—a basic human task that is learned and developed in the early stages of childhood. A task that I have been perfectly capable of performing since I was one year of age. I could do this,’ he reassured himself, but his legs did not seem to agree. They felt like they had chains wrapped around them, every blood vessel screaming that this wasn’t right. He ignored it, sick of his body not cooperating in ways that would keep him from dying, urging his leg to move. If he was going to fall he might as well get it over with. He refused to look down as his foot shot out in front of him, slowly lowering it just as he would if he were walking on pavement. His shoe rolled against something solid, causing him to let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, his lungs beginning to ache with the abuse.  
  
  
With that the arm around him loosened, sliding back until nothing but hands remained on his sides, supporting him. Keeping the barest of contact. He did not feel a bitter sting in the center of his chest as he continued forward, the white wizard keeping a steady pace a foot behind him. He didn’t! He was finally giving him some of the space, giving him some of the air, he had been begging for since the man first arrived.  
  
  
They walked slowly, the city was still bustling beneath them, completely ignorant of the two grown men walking above their heads as if they were taking a midnight stroll. The wizard was completely at ease, scanning the horizon like you would the ocean, breathing in the saltwater, and feeling the calmness of the water. The apprehensiveness that had been on his face before they had launched themselves into the air wiped away by the freedom that height gave them. Zhan Yao continued to step forward, the wizard letting him lead him to wherever he had been originally going. The place he should have been an hour ago and was sure to be his resting place. The bakery wasn’t far, thankfully, the silence too inviting for the curiosity sparking through his mind. Questions upon questions fighting their way to the forefront, pleading to be the first. He knew it wasn’t appropriate to ask him such personal questions now. To piece together the missing pieces floating in the abyss. But he wanted to. He wanted to talk to him properly. Somewhere where they weren’t running from the Wizard of the Waste and about to flatten themselves into pancakes on the ground if the wind blew the wrong way.  
  
  
He hadn’t realized he was staring at him, unable to unhook his eyes until the dark pools flickered to the corners, looking directly at him. “Can I help you, Kitten?” he questioned, an eyebrow slowly crawling up his forehead. Damn.  
  
  
Zhan Yao quickly snapped his gaze away, cursing himself. This man was going to think he was a psychopath by the end of this and he would never have a chance to ask him anything. Or look at him for that matter. Why was interacting with a member of the same race so exhausting? There is too much judgment, too many chances to slip up and lose your life if you weren’t careful. This was exactly why he left home.  
  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest. He needed to deflect, distract himself from the questions screaming throughout his head. To distract himself from the onslaught of emotions this man had unlocked within him. He would sort them out later when he was in a cool dry place. Right now, right now he just needed to survive this.  
  
  
He huffed. “I don’t recall us ever being acquainted to the point in which nicknames are appropriate, so stop calling me 'Kitten.' I have a name, thank you.” He said, focusing on the horizon.  
  
  
The captivating face turned, coming to rest only inches from his cheek and ear. Breath. Ignore it.  
  
  
“I know…so what is your real name, Kitten?” he questioned, his voice taking a lighter tone, a tone that would only come with satisfaction. Over what Zhan Yao had no idea, but he wasn’t sure if it was smart to give him his real name. Yet, if it meant that the stranger would stop calling him 'kitten' and doing strange things to his heart, he would accept the risks.  
  
  
He glanced at the other man, immediately regretting it as soon as the deep pools began to crinkle slightly at the corners. Why did this man do this to him? Fascinate him so much?  
  
  
He dipped his head slightly, a standard greeting between those of the same age group. “Dr. Zhan Yao, nice to meet you,” he said, his eyes quickly jerking back to the horizon. Away from those eyes.  
  
  
A small chuckle was whispered across his cheek.  
  
  
“Zhan Yao,” he tried, his tongue curling around the vowels too much. Something fluttered in the pit of his stomach but he ignored it, wondering if perhaps his nausea might be coming back. The man wasn’t holding onto him nearly as tightly as he had been, perhaps his remedy was wearing off? “Brightly Shining King, how very fitting,” he said, his eyes never leaving the side of his face. He swore if he looked at it any longer there were going to be holes in it. Brightly Shining? Really?  
  
  
Zhan Yao snorted, eyes squinting. “If you feel it necessary to translate it then it would be Brilliant King. There is nothing ‘shiny’ about me.” He stated, his voice unwavering, not wanting to give his curiosity away. If he did he would be a pancake within minutes. The man laughed, his face splitting into something so blinding that Zhan Yao felt like he was being burnt. The skin along his cheeks heating, his palms beginning to sweat. “Nah, I think I like 'Kitten' better. No offense,” he confessed, his lips pressing together lightly as he tried to contain the shuddering in his chest. His eyes widened slightly a spark of surprise skittering through him as he looked to the man. To make confirm. Did he….did he laugh because of him? Did he make him laugh? Something pleasantly warm bloomed in his chest, causing the muscles around his mouth to melt. He actually made someone laugh. Never in his life had he done that. The only time he ever made Qingtang laugh was when he tripped over a little girl's jump rope whilst walking down the street—it wasn’t his brightest moment. Zhan Yao was inherently not a funny person. It was one of the many toxic genes passed down from the long line of unimaginative and repressed inner children of the Zhans’. Unfortunately, he had never really been around anyone entertaining, so he never quite picked up the skill of humor or general merriment that most everyone in the human race seemed to possess. But…maybe he wasn’t as boring as he once feared?  
  
  
He couldn’t help but smile at that.  
  
  
“If you call me Kitten one more time I will walk away,” he threatened, forcing the smile off of his face, twisting his upper body slightly to the side. A promise. A threat. But it didn’t seem to make it past the thick barrier of the man’s head, only gaining a laugh in response. “If you walk away right now you will fall and I don’t think the concrete would appreciate that,” he said, causing his head to whip around, mouth falling open. Shock began to eat its way through the small bit of amusement he felt until there was nothing left. This stupid wizard just saved his life and now he’s worried about the integrity of the pavement?! And here he thought the man was some strange hero in white armor. This is what he gets for being sucked into his delusions.  
  
  
“Y-You-“ he stuttered, his brain struggling to form a coherent thought, the nerve endings completely fried.  
  
The wizard snorted, “I what? Your not making sense, Kitten.” He was going to kick him. He truly was. Still, he knew that the man was right, no matter where this conversation went he wasn’t going to win. So instead he snapped his jaw up, teeth clenching. “Stop calling me that, you stupid mouse,” he grumbled, the hands tightening slightly, fingers pressing deeper into the fabric. The motion caused him to tip slightly, leaning closer into the wizard’s side. “I could call you Your Majesty instead,” he said, the eyebrows that seemed to have a personality all on their own wiggling up and down. Wh-what was this man trying to do? First, he worries for the pavement instead of his own being and now he’s…what? Was he teasing him? Qingtang teased him constantly but this didn’t feel the same, the way this man was doing it seemed different. There was a softer sound to the words, the phrasing igniting a wildfire to spread along Zhan Yao’s cheeks that he had never felt before. Perhaps, he was getting a fever from the panic and strain on his body?  
  
  
He sighed. “I’m going to ask that you never do that, ever. I’m not royalty.”  
  
  
The wizard’s face slackened slightly, like a puppet that had his strings cut. Even his eyebrows slanted slightly, about to tip over from their balance point.  
Please, let him survive this. The market district was slowly coming into view, barely a block away. A part of him felt relieved by the sight. The sight that would bring him back into a sense of comfort and familiarity. A place he knew. A place he understood and knew how to control. Yet, the other part of him felt like it had been chucked into a cold lake and swallowed by a fish. After this, he wouldn’t see the wizard again. There would never be another opportunity to solve the puzzle, to ask the questions that were still clawing at the psychologist side within him. Why did humanity have to have such strict social rules?  
He felt his legs stutter slightly, slowing but taking larger steps. The muscles wanting to retract like fishing wire, to make the last few miles take hours; whereas his instincts told him to push faster. To run and find safety. ‘Everything ends sooner or later. You might as well get over it now.’ his brain supplied, causing him to scoff slightly. If only it were that easy.  
  
  
They just crossed the last row of buildings, the street in front of the bakery right below their feet. Zhan Yao stopped.  
  
  
“Um…that’s were I need to go,” he muttered, reluctantly pointing to the only wooden building on the entire street. He had been with Qingtang the day she bought it, warning her a thousand times the place was a fire hazard. Of course, she refused to do anything about it, apparently finding termites and the general threat of arsine an appealing characteristic in a business. She had purchased it immediately, throwing all of her savings at it like a dartboard. Granted, it had served her well. Her bakery was famous throughout all of Hong Kong, but he still feared that all of that work would quickly go up in flames with one wrong move. Quite literally.  
  
The wizard’s eyes slowly followed the trail of his finger, his throat jerking upward and then forward slightly.  
  
“Okay.” That was all he said, his hands tightening on his waist.  
  
  
Their descent was a lot smoother than their launch, making him and his stomach incredibly happy. They slowly sunk down like a hot air balloon, the noise and stench of the city becoming stronger and stronger the closer they came to the balcony. No one seemed to notice them, which was odd. You would think two grown men flying through the air would be a cause for concern, but perhaps the wizard had disguised them somehow.  
  
  
An alarming *creak* pierced the air as their feet pressed onto the rotting plywood for a railing, causing both men to quickly stumble down onto the floor.  
  
  
Land. Solid land. Everything his body felt like it had just been deflated, limbs loose and shaking as they struggling to support his weight. If it weren’t for the hands still on his sides he was sure would have fallen flat on his face. The wizard smiled lightly at him, the same weak-willed one that he had used right before he had launched them into the air. No, no never again! He quickly jerked backward, ripping the hands away from his sides, leaving nothing but heat in their wake. He really needed to get to the hospital for some medication, his fever was getting increasingly worse.  
The wizard’s upturned lips fell, the hands that still held the shape of Zhan Yao’s waist, slowly going limp down at his sides.  
He coughed.  
  
  
“Sorry, magic can take a toll on your body if you aren’t used to it. Just rest for a little while and you should be back to your lovely self,” he stated, his eyes slowly making their way down his form and then back up. Zhan Yao followed the motion, feeling concern wash over him for his suite. If his suite was ruined he was officially done with this day and everyone in it. He would jump off of this balcony if he had to and go straight home. He didn’t care if this wizard was kind enough to save his life and dignity. The seams were still intact, and considering how much running they did there was barely a wrinkle to be seen which was surprising. Even his tie was still perfectly knotted and resting in place. A small *tsk* cut through the examination of his suite, forcing his head up. The wizard was looking over the balcony, his lips moving slightly as he muttered something into the wind. Freezing water tipped over his head, cascading down his body, soaking through his clothes and rippling over every bone and nerve. He glanced down at his suite again.  
  
  
“What,” he asked, his voice lowering an octave, quickly enacting emergency protocols within his mind. Barriers shot up, creating layer upon layer of defensive measures to prepare for whatever the man was about to say next. He knew he wasn’t exactly the most…attractive individual in the world. He barely came close to average, but that didn’t mean the man had to be so obvious about his distaste. Idiotic and disrespectful mice!  
  
  
The dark eyes met his again. “Jeez,” he gasped, taking a step back, obviously taking in the dark aura that Zhan Yao had surrounded himself in. “Calm down, Kitten, it was just a joke,” he muttered, his fingers reaching to run over the back of his neck. Warning bells were still ringing, his brain on high alert as he scanned the face in front of him. He wasn’t sure he believed him, but there wasn’t any darkness in his eyes, or harsh lines forming along his face that malice would induce. His voice didn’t have the sharp bite or overly sweet sound that he had taken note of during his childhood. The barrier slowly retracted, only a few on the surface staying up just in case. He took in a deep breath.  
  
  
He pursed his lips, feeling his shoulders press together, heat crawling up his neck. He had saved his life, if he truly had a deeply hidden problem with him he would have just left him in the alleyway. There was no reason to have overreacted.  
  
  
“Thank you for saving my life,” he confessed, putting the tiniest bit of force into the words to make them stronger, forcing them past the lump that had begun to wedge itself in his throat again. The white-cloaked wizard, raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised by the sudden change in mood. To be honest, Zhan Yao was too. Everything was mixing together, creating a typhoon of uncertainty and confusion within his chest. A dangerous combination that was guaranteed to result in mood swings and sudden irritability. If the body and mind weren’t sure about something, if they didn’t have something to focus on, they were bound to act out. He had been in this mood only once in his entire life, and he had the unfortunate fate of being in Qingtang’s presence when the sleep-deprived volcano decided to explode. After that, he swore to never do it again.  
  
  
“Anyways, my friend is waiting for me, so I should probably go…” he trailed off, throwing his thumb towards the door behind him. He knew he needed to leave, his chest hurt with the heart-shaped bruises, his lungs no better. He needed sleep. But those questions were holding him back, keeping his feet firmly locked in place when he tried to pull them back.  
  
  
He took a small step back, feeling his brain scream in protest when suddenly-“You…Your friends with the owner of the bakery?” he cut in, glancing towards the door as if he were afraid someone would pop out swinging an ax. Zhan Yao nodded, unsure as to why he sounded so concerned. Did he know Qingtang? The woman did have a bit of a reputation of frightening any man that walked into her bakery; her overly competent attitude tending to frighten those who didn’t know any better. It was just part of the “Bai Tiger Bakery” experience.  
  
  
The dark eyes scanned his face, obviously trying to decipher something that Zhan Yao was uncertain of. He must have reached some conclusion as the smirk took its rightful place back on his face. Uh oh…  
  
  
A white-clad leg extended, bridging the safe gap that he had placed between them. His heart jumped up into his throat, the warm breath fanning across his face again. The treacherous fingers wrapped around his own, lifting them until they were blocking the warmth.  
  
  
Uh oh…  
  
His face leaned closer-  
  
Uh oh…  
  
His lips gently brushed over his knuckles, pressing gently into the skin.  
  
  
Zhan Yao’s heart froze, stuttering to a stop like a car running out of gas. Sputtering and choking until it finally shut off. Dead and useless. What…what…  
  
  
“I’ll see you later, Kitten.” He breathed before stepping away and launching himself over the balcony. Gone. Like a shadow being washed away by the daylight. As if he had never been there in the first place.  
What the hell just happened?!


End file.
